There I stood
In a long hallway
Stretching thinly
To a lit point

Lined with doors
Opening as they closed

Its prisms transposing
Euphoria as it shone

Lifting my chest
It dragged me breathless
Down its stretches

As I was reflected
In my own projections
Of sentients

Until innocence
Was all there is

And that is
Where thoughtless
Narrative lives

Where languidly it gives
Wordlessness meaning

And that is
Where fraughtless
Intentions can win

Acting replacing thinking

Incentive in Zen
Awaking and thinking again

Was is and gonna be
Everything I believe
Even while deceived
In sets of themes

Numeric categories
And the tragic stories
Of grander things

Things of grandeurous dreams
That I wring out in the sink
While winking
The well wishes away
In splashes
Of graying
Paint

My hate
Is displayed
In the mourning
Of Mondays

And with relatable monotony
And some mundane

Everything goes back to the same

Or at least
That's the philosophy